


Füüf und Äis

by smokeopossum



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5 Times, Exhibitionism, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, gratuitous dirty talk, hey there's like a lot of smut in this so caveat emptor or whatever, if you're looking here for canon you have come to the wrong place, these hands are only capable of creating filth, trans female characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9366449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeopossum/pseuds/smokeopossum
Summary: Five times Fareeha and Angela were interrupted during the act, and one time someone was polite enough to wait until after.





	

**Author's Note:**

> wew lad  
> two fics in two days, whaaaat? yeah this is what happens when you sit in WIP Hell for a few months. anyway.  
> pharah and mercy are both trans ladies w/o bottom surgery here. don't be gross about it in the comments. thanks.  
> shoutout to the gfs for the beta biz

2:57 PM. Gibraltar. Medical wing.

_‘Jesse McCree is en route with a dislocated elbow, Dr. Ziegler.’_

“ _Scheiße,_ ” Angela curses in response to Athena’s even tone, gripping tightly at the edge of her desk. She knows she looks a mess, flushed and sweaty, but there’s no time to do anything about it. The doors to the med bay hiss open moments later and McCree swaggers in, right arm hanging awkwardly at his side.

“Howdy, doc, sorry t’bother you. Me an’ Genji got to tusslin’ in the weight room and seems he was lookin’ to give me another shiny new arm.” He chuckles ruefully, gesturing with his metal arm to his right, currently dangling at an upsetting angle. “Lucky for me he was only usin’ his bokken. Think you could help a feller out?”

“Um,” Angela begins, nervously shuffling the papers on her desk and running a hand through her messy bangs. “I’m actually a little busy right now, Jesse. Paperwork, and breakthroughs, and--”

She cuts herself off with a sharp intake of breath, blushing bright red. There’s a faint sound of shifting fabric.

McCree tries not to laugh as he recognizes the situation in an instant.

“Fareeha’s under the desk, ain’t she,” he drawls, flashing Mercy a smirk.

“ _What?_ That’s-- That’s ridiculous, _absurd,_ I’m just _very_ busy, I can’t believe you would--”

“Hello, Jesse,” a familiar, husky voice interrupts from under her desk. At that, McCree _does_ laugh.

“Well howdy there, Fareeha. Imagine you’re lookin’ for a dropped pen down there.”

He chuckles again with a wink to Angela, already beginning to back out of the room. “S’alright, I’ll skedaddle. Zenny boy can harmonize it on back into place just fine.”

Angela buries her face in her hands as McCree grins and tips his hat on his way out.

There’s a moment of awkward silence, until Fareeha murmurs against her thigh.

“Shall I climb back out?”

“No, please, I’m so _close,_ ” she whines, one hand darting beneath her desk to tangle encouragingly in her hair. Fareeha answers with a quiet laugh before returning her attention back between her legs.

* * *

 

3:10 AM. Hollywood. Kitchen.

Fareeha hisses as a soft hand slides down the front of her briefs, head tilting back as warm lips kiss at her throat. “Angela,” she quietly breathes with a needy roll of her hips, hands falling to the counter behind her with a muted clink of metal on laminate. Mugs and steaming tea kettle lay forgotten off to the side.

“Mm, yeeesss...?” Angela teases back with a firm squeeze to her length.

“ _Please,_ ” Fareeha whispers, mouth dropping open in a gasp as slender fingers flutter against her tip, eyes tightly squeezing shut.

They open seconds later.

“Oh _blimey,_ ” a voice not at all like Angela’s chirps through the kitchen. Both of them swing their heads towards the sound with wide eyes, finding Tracer in the doorway covering hers with her hands.

“Sorry, loves! Came in for some late night tea to help me sleep. Guess I wasn’t the only one, eh?” She giggles while Angela rests her forehead against Fareeha’s shoulder in embarrassment, hand still frozen in her underwear. Removing it would be acknowledging that this is _happening,_ and she can’t have that.

Fareeha clears her throat, staring determinedly at the ceiling.

“Hello, Lena. Um. Sorry.”

“Aw, no need to stop on my account!” She abandons any pretense of averting her eyes as she heads for the counter, grabbing her RAF mug with an appreciative glance down their bodies.

“Hope you don’t mind if I swipe the kettle though,” Tracer says, waggling her eyebrows at the both of them. “Doesn’t look like you’re usin’ it.”

“ _Gott,_ ” Mercy whispers, blush obvious even in the dim light. Lena only giggles again, filling up her mug and swiping a teabag from the cupboard - peppermint, Fareeha notes, still not meeting her eyes.

Thankfully, she doesn’t stick around once she drops it into the steaming water. She gives them a brief wave as she heads out the way she came.

“Enjoy your evening, you two. And no worries, mum’s the word,” she calls from the doorway, miming zipping her lips and tossing away the key with a wink.

With Tracer finally gone, the both of them let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. Angela looks up to meet Fareeha’s eyes, biting her lip to stifle a laugh as her lover brings a hand up to rub at the bridge of her nose.

“... So did you want to keep going, or,” Angela says, dissolving into giggles as she circles a finger around her tip.

“Not _here,_ ” Pharah replies, catching her by the wrist and gently tugging her hand out from between her legs. “My mother might walk in next.”

Despite her words, she brings Angela’s fingers to her mouth with a sly smile, relishing the whimper when her lips close around them, the shiver as her tongue sweeps along each digit.

“Yes,” Mercy breathes, “let’s continue this in your room, _ja?”_

The kettle is left abandoned on the stove, thoughts of tea and interruptions quickly forgotten.

* * *

 

5:23 PM. Lijiang. Research library.

Angela’s back hits the bookshelf with a grunt, one leg hooked around Fareeha’s waist as their mouths meet in a desperate, bruising kiss. Strong metal hands slide her skirt high up her thighs until they cup her ass, kneading the soft, squeezable flesh as moans pass between them. Angela’s hands grip her shoulder and cup the back of her neck, nails biting into the skintight black flightsuit Fareeha is still wearing.

Neither were fans of missions without the other.

Both, however, were fans of their ritual upon the other’s return.

Fareeha is still grimy from their assignment in the gardens; dirt dusts one side of her face from an unfortunate spill while evading a sniper shot, sweat drenches the back of her flight suit and her neck, but Angela doesn’t care about any of that. Pharah is _here,_ and _whole,_ and, if she’s being quite honest, she’s _sexy as hell_ like this.

The adrenaline of a fight well-won mixes with her desire for Mercy, hands confident and quick to reach into her underwear. One hand remains groping her rear while the other slides to the front and begins stroking her member, already half hard at Fareeha’s show of strength earlier - she was literally swept off her feet when she found her.

With Angela’s eyes closed and Fareeha’s back to the door, caught up in each other’s need as they are, neither of them notice the door opening until they hear a shocked gasp.

“Oh my gosh. Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Mei-Ling squeaks out, hands quickly covering Snowball’s visual inputs to its robotic boops of distress. “I just need to grab my tablet, sorry, sorry!”

“ _Ya allah_ ,” Fareeha mumbles in disbelief, resting her forehead against Angela’s with a pinched expression. Angela tries not to laugh.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry,” they hear Mei mumble as she snags the sleek tablet from her desk in the corner, carrying her little robot as one would a football.

“Sorry, Mei,” Angela calls to her back as she scurries out of the room, just as flushed as the both of them from her interruption.

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving the two of them alone in the silent library once more.

“So..,” Fareeha begins after a moment’s pause, slowly grinning at Angela, who’s still hard in her hand despite the intrusion.

“... Well I don’t think she’s coming _back_ anytime soon,” Angela says, voice wavering as Fareeha starts playing with her again. She pulls her back for another kiss, slower and softer than the last, whimpering at the brush of her flightsuit against her length.

Within a minute their earlier intensity returns, the both of them eager to touch and taste each other. Angela pants, head tilted back against the shelf, as Fareeha’s mouth travels down her throat, sucking and nipping at the pale skin to leave a bruising hickey. She squeezes at the doctor’s thigh before pushing her skirt up even further, mouth traveling down her chest as she slowly sinks to her knees in front of her.

Angela was correct - Mei-Ling did not return while they still occupied the research library.

* * *

 

10:31 AM. Ilios. Conference room B.

They know they shouldn’t be in there. The mission debriefing had finished half an hour ago, but the two of them remained under pretense of private discussion.

There was currently very little discussion happening, unless one counted being sprawled against the conference table with lips locked as a discussion.

Fareeha pins Angela on her back, wrists held in a steady grip against the table as their lips move against each other, rolling the hard planes of her body against the softness of Angela’s. A quiet moan slips from her as a thigh works between her legs, hips bucking at the pressure.

Angela’s blouse has been entirely unbuttoned by the time the door swings open.

“Aah!” a deep baritone yells in surprise.

“Aah!” they cry out in response, just as shocked.

Fareeha rolls off the table with a loud thump as Angela sits up in alarm, tugging her blouse back together to cover her chest. Winston covers his face with one large hand, looking as embarrassed as a 350 pound gorilla can.

“We were just--” Angela begins, at the same time Fareeha sits up on the floor with her own interjection of, “It wasn’t what it--”

The both of them stop short as he raises his other hand to silence them.

“I don’t want to know. I didn’t see anything. I just came back for the prototype shield generator I left here.”

The both of them give him a sheepish look as he lopes to the other end of the table, but he avoids their eyes as he grabs the item in question. He doesn’t linger, though he pauses at the door with a tired sigh.

“Please refrain from canoodling in public spaces in the future. You have private bunks here. Please utilize them.”

He leaves before either can respond and shuts the door behind him.

Both of them sigh in unison.

“We should really stop doing this,” Fareeha mumbles, wincing as she stands from her place on the floor. Angela gasps at the sudden reminder she had just bodily knocked her girlfriend to the ground, standing and cupping her cheeks with a worried frown.

“ _Scheiße._ Sorry. Are you alright? Did you hit your head?” A hand flies up to probe the back of her scalp for tenderness.

“No, I’m fine. Perhaps my shoulder is a bit sore, but not nearly as bruised as my ego.”

She presses her lips to Angela's, kissing away her fondly irritated frown with a smile. A cool hand starts trailing up her belly as the kiss deepens, brushing at the wire of her bra, before Angela pulls away with a pout.

“He’s right, though. We shouldn’t be fooling around in here. I fear we may be getting a reputation.” She begins buttoning up her blouse once more, still flushed.

“I suppose,” Fareeha says, tilting her head up by the chin to give her another kiss. “I believe you started it this time, however. You wouldn’t stop petting my shoulders and giving me eyes during the debriefing.”

Angela scoffs, internally cursing her Swiss complexion as her cheeks burn. “Well have you tried being less attractive in public? It’s very distracting.” She straightens her lab coat with a mock glare at Fareeha, though it quickly crumbles as her eyes dip down to her skintight compression shirt.

Fareeha smirks, subtly flexing. “I’m afraid that’s not _pharah_ to me, Angela.”

The pun causes a pained expression to replace the dreamy fawning on the doctor’s face.

“That one wasn’t even _good_ , Fareeha.” She sighs loudly, pushing her bangs from her face as Fareeha chuckles. With their clothing properly situated, they walk together towards the door.

“Meet me in my room then, doctor? I trust you can find the way. It’s not very--”

“ _Don’t.”_

“-- _Pharah_ away.”

Angela sighs once more, though her shoulders shake with poorly concealed laughter.

“Just for that, I get to be on top.”

Fareeha puts a hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze as she opens the door for them, still chuckling. “Sure, _habibti_.”

* * *

 

11:49 PM. Numbani. Gym locker room.

After the last time, they had agreed to keep their fooling around behind their own closed doors.

Mostly.

They just really can’t help themselves sometimes.

Mercy can only take so much of seeing Fareeha bench more than her body weight. Pharah can only take so much of Angela running in those tight shorts.

A late night workout session turns into a late night makeout session, the both of them still sweaty as endorphins flood their tired bodies. Angela straddles Fareeha’s lap on the locker room bench, hands burying in her hair and cupping the back of her neck as their mouths open for each other; Fareeha licks into her mouth and she whines high in her throat, gripping just that much tighter.

One metal hand slips underneath Angela’s sports bra and pushes it up to expose her breasts, kneading the full, soft flesh hungrily while keeping the other anchored and steady against the small of her back. Angela jerks in her lap at a pinch to her nipple, breaking the kiss to moan and heave for breath as Fareeha gives it a tug.

Her mouth free, Fareeha leans back and coaxes Angela to follow, mouthing and licking eagerly at her breasts as they lie along the bench. Cool fingers tease at the waistband of her shorts, petting at the sweaty skin of her back.

Mercy’s quiet noises of pleasure distract them from the sound of footsteps.

They aren’t loud enough to hide the shocked gasp and booming laughter, however.

Angela shuts her eyes tightly, hoping against all hope that this is just a dream she’s having. Fareeha freezes under her, mouth still against her breast, eyes similarly squeezed shut in prayer.

When they open them, it’s to the sight of Satya with her back to them and Zarya doubled over in laughter and wiping away a tear, the both of them in workout gear and clearly having just come from the gym themselves.

Angela sits up immediately, yanking her sports bra back down and stuffing her breasts back into it while Fareeha covers her own face with her hands. There’s nothing they can do about the erections.

“ _Privyet,_ doctor. Amari. Please, continue, we are enjoying the show, _da?_ ” Zarya manages between sputters of laughter, nudging Symmetra’s side with her elbow.

“This is horribly inappropriate,” is all the comment Satya has in response. A moment later, she follows it up with, “That bench is _filthy._ ”

“Come, we will shower in my room then, Satya. I do not know if they would appreciate our company here.” Zarya straightens, still chuckling as she sends the couple on the bench an interested glance. “Perhaps it would be too crowded. Perhaps not. We will save the discussion for another time, maybe.”

She turns, one beefy hand against the middle of Satya’s back as they head out the way they came. “ _Poka_ ,” Zarya calls over her shoulder with a grin.

When their footsteps fade, Angela collapses on top of Fareeha’s chest with a groan, burrowing into her neck as strong arms encircle her.

“Why does this keep _happening_ ,” she whispers, frowning as she’s bounced with Fareeha’s quiet laughter. “Why are you _laughing?_ ”

“I believe this is karma, dear. And I’m laughing because this is _ridiculous._ Why do we keep thinking that cramped bases full of around twenty other people will afford us the luxury of time alone in public spaces?”

“It’s nearly _midnight!_ They weren’t there when we left the gym!”

Fareeha presses a kiss to Angela’s forehead, petting her hair softly as she whines. A moment passes before she speaks again.

“I think most of Overwatch has seen us in various states of undress by now. You know, if I didn’t know any better, I might think you were secretly into it.”

Angela muffles her aggravated groan against sweaty dark skin. Fareeha laughs again.

“... We really should clean up though. Come,” Pharah suggests with a teasing swat to Angela’s ass. She wasn’t expecting the breathy squeak that followed it.

Judging by the way Mercy freezes above her, neither was she.

“Well that bears some investigation later,” she murmurs with a wicked grin. “Off my lap for now, doctor. Unless you would like for me to carry you?”

“That’s hardly necessary,” Angela mumbles, shifting off of Fareeha and standing, extending a hand out to help her girlfriend up. Fareeha takes it and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

“No more exhibitionism from us. We’ll stay holed up in our rooms instead, where no one will complain about us having sex.”

“Yes,” Mercy agrees with a stern look. “We’ll keep our hands to ourselves in public from now on.”

Their eyes meet, amusement flickering over their faces. Both of them attempt to conceal their smiles.

They already know they won’t keep that promise very well.

“Well,” Angela adds, “Maybe not the showers. Care to help me wash my hard to reach spots?”

“Always,” Fareeha replies, grinning widely as they head towards them.

* * *

 

7:44 AM. Stuttgart. Captain Fareeha Amari’s private room.

The door is locked. The shades are drawn against the morning sunlight. Their schedules are clear for the next two hours. They’ve had time to prepare.

Angela is above Fareeha without a stitch of clothing, grinding against her abdomen while they leisurely kiss and leaving streaks of precum against the chiseled muscles. Fareeha has her hands on her ass, squeezing and kneading as she urges her to keep rutting, the head of her own dick prodding at a milky thigh.

The morning is quiet, the sheets are soft, and the two of them are finally going to have sex uninterrupted for what feels like the first time in months.

“You’re so beautiful,” Angela says quietly, in between pecks to Fareeha’s lips, cheeks, and chin. She might not see a blush, but she can feel the heat rising to her face in response as she cups her cheek and brushes her thumb along the distinctive tattoo.

“Sweet-talker,” Fareeha accuses with a smile, running a hand up Angela’s spine and past the soft fuzz of her undercut to bury in loose white-blonde hair, pulling her down for an open-mouthed kiss. Angela appreciatively moans against her lips at a gentle tug to her hair, hips instinctively jerking.

When Fareeha manages to tear herself away from the kiss, she noses along to her ear with a sly smile.

“Do you want my fingers, Angela?” she breathes, digging the digits in question into the softness of her rear. The doctor whimpers in response, hiding her face in the crook of her shoulder.

“Do you want my cock?” Fareeha continues, giving a playful buck of her hips. Her tip drags up the inside of Angela’s thigh.

“ _Gott_ ,” Angela heatedly gasps against her neck. Her nails dig into broad shoulders just above the prosthetics, already breathing heavier at the words.

“That’s not an answer,” Fareeha teases. She gives her hair another tug, harder this time, to another happy groan.

“Yes,” Angela finally huffs, “I want your fingers. I want your cock. Please, Fareeha.” Her voice, already desperate and thin, sends sharp twinges of heat through Fareeha, twisting low in her belly. She rewards the doctor with soft pets to her hair as she blindly reaches to the nightstand for their bottle of lube.

“Good girl.”

The sound of it uncapping makes Angela shiver. She collapses against her lover’s front with her own length throbbing between them, legs automatically spreading wide for her.

“So eager,” Fareeha mumbles against her cheek with a kiss, petting down her body to squirt a dollop onto her fingers and press them against her hole. The cold contact makes Angela gasp as goosebumps break out along her skin.

The fingers slickly slide against her, gradually warming with every pass. It’s only until Angela starts squirming and backing into her hand that the first finger slips inside of her.

“Fareeha,” she sighs out, digging her nails in yet again. Fareeha barely notices, too swept up in the feeling of Angela clenching around her and the sound of her name on her lips.

“Good?”

“ _Good_.”

“Good.”

She works it steadily in and out, up to the first knuckle in slow drags. Quiet moans escape from Angela as it probes, rising in volume when a second nudges at her.

“ _Please,_ ” Angela whispers again, a blush staining her cheeks. Fareeha is quick to respond, slipping two in on the next pass with a nip to her ear. The fit is snug inside of her but they still easily slide in and out. She doesn’t need to ask for a third. Fareeha wriggles it in when she deems her ready, thrusting deeper as Angela moans against her shoulder, hips rolling in rhythm.

“Good girl, taking my fingers so easily.” Her voice has grown husky and low right against Angela’s ear, lips and teeth closing around the thin shell of it. Angela’s only response is a whimper and a twitch, her mouth hanging open as she pants.

When the fingers pull free, she whines at the sudden emptiness. Fareeha chuckles quietly and uncaps the lube once again.

“You’re beautiful, Angela,” she says with a sweet nuzzle, slick palm reaching lower to coat her length. She groans as her fist pumps in steady strokes, flesh firm and throbbing with excitement.

Angela backs up slightly to help her line it up correctly, flushed but enthused as she smiles down at Fareeha. Her tip prods at Angela’s ass, warm and slick, and with a quiet intake of breath from both of them, it starts to press in.

Wordless grunts slip from Angela’s lips as it works into her. Fareeha’s cock is thicker than her fingers, but there’s enough lubrication to help push past the tight ring of muscle more or less painlessly. She pushes back on it further and further, rising up with her hands planted on Fareeha’s chest to steady herself, and bites her lip as the head pops inside with a brief spark of pain. The rest of it comes easy in comparison.

Her mouth hangs open while she quietly pants, eyes squeezing shut as she sinks to the base, and she takes a moment to get used to the sensation.

Fareeha takes the time to carefully reach to the nightstand once more and replace the bottle of lube, dry hand returning to give Angela’s hip a reassuring pet. The wet, messy hand slips around her lover’s member and gently strokes her, thumb fondly running over the leaking tip.

“Alright?”

Angela nods. Her eyes flutter open after a minute. “Thick,” she breathes, “you’re so thick, Fareeha. I can feel you _throbbing_.”

Fareeha lifts one of the pale hands resting at her chest to her lips, softly kissing the knuckles as her eyes meet hers, a faint smirk playing over her lips. “You _make me_ throb, _amar_ ,” she says with a slow, firm stroke up Angela’s length, voice hot and honeyed.

The doctor whimpers at a tight squeeze to her head and jerks her hips, biting sharply at her lip as her lids droop from the warm waves of pleasure. Fareeha rolls against her with a sigh and returns her hand to Angela’s hip to steady her.

Angela slowly starts to ride her, hips rocking back and forth in smooth circles. Fareeha is content to let her set the pace at first, moaning quietly as she grinds down onto her lap and squeezes around her. She sucks in a gasp at a sudden pinch to a dark nipple, Angela grinning down at her and softly thumbing the stiff peak before doing it again.

Her grip on Angela’s length grows firmer at the tease, strokes gaining enough speed to knock the smugness off her face.

“Ngh, Fareeha,” she whispers, heat flooding her cheeks as the younger woman thrusts up sharply in time with a tug.

“Hm, yes?” Fareeha’s voice is low and steady despite another quick buck of her hips that momentarily steals away Mercy’s breath.

“Fuck me,” Angela pleads with a squeeze to her breasts, “please?”

Fareeha huffs a laugh and gives her hip an affectionate squeeze. “Of course. Doctor’s orders.”

She sits up, still steadily jerking Angela off with one hand while the other slips around her waist, and presses a kiss to Angela’s jaw before flipping them over. Angela whimpers as her back carefully hits the mattress and Fareeha slides deeper inside of her, now kneeling between her legs with a grin.

Fareeha firmly tugs at her with one hand while the other drags down her hip and hooks under her thigh, hoisting her knee to her chest. Mercy arches and keens as she’s spread, hands flying up to cover her flushed face.

“Now now, Angela, none of that,” Fareeha purrs as her hips continue rocking in the new position. “You’re much too pretty to hide. Hands on the bed so I can see your beautiful face.”

“Now who’s a sweet-talker,” Angela breathes out with a laugh, obediently lowering her hands to fist the sheets regardless. Fareeha rewards her with faster, deeper thrusts and grins down at her as she moans openly.

For a while the air is only filled with the sound of quiet gasps and moans, the gentle clack of Fareeha’s beads, and the wet slap of flesh on flesh. The moans rise in volume as Fareeha focuses on squeezing at her tip and slamming harder and harder into her, drawing closer to her peak. She leans down to press her lips to Angela’s, swallowing down her needy moan and responding with her own.

“Gonna cum,” Fareeha gasps as she breaks the kiss. “Inside?”

“Please please please _please,_ ” Angela chants breathlessly, head tilting back to let warm lips drag along her throat, clutching desperately at the bedspread. A hint of teeth grazes her and then Fareeha’s hips are jerking wildly, heat spilling deep inside of her with rough pumps, and she’s arching and heaving for breath as her lover bites down.

“ _Yes,_ Fareeha, _fick mich,_ fuck, yes, yes, yes, _Schätzli, yes!”_ Angela screams out, twitching beneath Fareeha. The hand at her length squeezes and strokes in time with the heavy thrusts of her hips until Angela wails loudly moments later, covering both their chests with her release.

They lay panting and sweaty after, chests sticky as they press against one another. Fareeha lazily drags a finger through the mess and brings it to her mouth to taste. Angela shivers at the sight.

She cups the back of Fareeha’s neck and pulls her into a tender kiss, both of them moaning softly as she shifts inside of her. Before they can help it, they’re both smiling into the kiss.

“I love you,” Fareeha murmurs as she barely pulls away, reaching up to brush Angela’s bangs from her face.

“I love _you,”_ Angela responds, cupping her cheek to pull her down for another kiss.

Someone knocks at their door.

Fareeha’s brow furrows as she parts from Angela and rests her forehead against hers. “Perhaps they will go away if we pretend we’re not here.”

The knocks, if anything, grow louder. They both squeeze their eyes shut and quietly pray.

_“I know you’re in there, Fareeha,”_ an elderly voice finally calls from the other side. Fareeha whines as she recognizes the owner - Angela tiredly chuckles.

Ana.

_“Pull out of the good doctor and put some clothes on. You promised me tea and I’m not letting you weasel out of it_ **_again._ ** _Angela, habibti, you’re more than welcome to join us.”_

Fareeha groans, collapsing on top of her now quietly giggling lover and burying her face in the pillows. She can hear the smug satisfaction through the door.

_“I’m giving you ten minutes to clean up before I come in there with my rifle. Try not to smell too much like sex, dear.”_

They hear steps lead away from the door and leave them in relative peace. Angela quietly pets Fareeha’s hair as her lover sighs loudly.

“Do you think if I leapt out the window I could get away?” she asks after a beat, muffled in the bedspread.

“You couldn’t run fast enough, Fareeha.”

“At least say you’ll come with me.”

“I’d say I already did, but I’ll leave the teasing to your mother.” She bites her lip, struggling not to laugh. Fareeha groans once more and pulls away, glaring at her as she lifts herself up onto her elbows.

“ _Please_ don’t talk about my mother while I’m inside you.”

Angela gently pats her cheek, grinning widely. “Then I suggest you pull out. We need to get cleaned up. I have no doubt in my mind that her threat was serious, and the clock is ticking.”

Fareeha swears quietly and eases out of Angela, frowning.

“At least she waited until after we were done.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey thanks for reading and remember the golden rules  
> 1\. have fun and be yourself  
> 2\. don't be gross  
> 3\. i make myself laugh
> 
> serious bonus rule - if you're a trans lady and how i depict trans ladies in my works makes you uncomfy, please let me know! i want this to be fun and Good and if it's not accomplishing those things i'd really like to fix it.


End file.
